


Preface

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5673634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus still gets heats, and Sirius is still on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Remus took in very little of the meeting and doesn’t notice when it’s over, only starting when Kingsley gets up beside him. He watches their collective backs shuffle out of the dark kitchen of Grimmuald Place, the hallway portrait shrieking in the distance as they crowd towards the doorway. Remus stays where he is, glued to the bench. He flashes weak smiles at the few that turn to wave him goodbye, but he makes no move to join them. He’s got nowhere else to go. And he can’t stand up with witnesses around, not in his current state.

Sirius isn’t leaving either. Some of the Order members shuffle into different parts of the house to stay longer, but Sirius stays permanently, and he smirks at Remus as he circles the long table. He takes a seat back on the bench, sidling up to Remus with his handsome face set in a broad grin. There’re still people within eyeshot, but that doesn’t stop Sirius from draping an arm over Remus’ shoulder—with Remus, at least, he’s always overly affectionate.

He asks, deliberately coy, “You like being here again, Moony? I bet you have lots of fond memories.” A raised brow and quirked lips tell Remus exactly what he means. 

Remus rasps too hoarsely, “You know I do.”

With a snort, Sirius tilts his head, leaning forward, and his tongue comes out to lick crudely up the shell of Remus’ ear. Remus winces but makes no more of a show—Sirius’ gross behaviour is common knowledge, and Remus, somehow, _missed it._ Right against that wet ear, Sirius hisses, “Remember that one summer when my parents went to Bosnia, and I snuck you in and fucked you right over this table?”

Remus shivers. He remembers it vividly. He _wants that._ He’s older now, and they’re not alone, and his body’s ravaged and fragile, but it _burns_ for release and for _Sirius_. Arthur’s the last to leave, slipping out into the hall. The commotion’s still loud, but Sirius is mercifully quiet. Sirius presses his face into the side of Remus’ and hisses, “I _love_ it when you’re in heat.”

He should’ve known Sirius would figure that out. He still glances sideways, the blood draining form his face, and mutters, “How...?”

“I’m a dog, remember?” Sirius chuckles, nips at Remus’ jaw and growls, “I could smell your arousal from the other room.” When Remus winces, Sirius coos, “Don’t worry; no one else noticed your needy squirming and those wanton, raunchy little looks you sent me. I’m the only one here, after all, that knows what you look like when you’re _begging_ for a fuck.” The hand that isn’t rubbing Remus’ shoulder drops to his thigh, gently stroking over his worn-thin trousers. Sirius idly continues, “With how desperate you look, I’m surprised you didn’t just knock a fork under the table and pretend to go after it, then crawl right between my legs instead and put my dick in your mouth. You know I’d let you gag yourself on my cock any time you need it, Moony...”

Remus clamps a hand over his mouth, but it isn’t in time to stop his ragged moan. Sirius always has a way of getting to him, even with rude, sloppy dirty talk. Sirius’ hand dips lower along his inner thigh, pinching at him through the fabric and rubbing over the abused flesh afterwards.

Sirius runs his teeth along Remus’ ear and sighs, “Or were you hoping I’d do that for you?” His hand rises higher, darting to cup Remus’ crotch, squeezing once and setting in to knead him steadily, while Remus’ hips shudder and he wills himself not to buck up into Sirius’ warm palm. Massaging him all the while, Sirius purrs, “You know, I used to fantasize about you doing that for me in Hogwarts. I had all sorts of dirty fantasies about my favourite wolf, especially when I figured out that certain other animal urges transferred over, even in your more scrumptious form... there wasn’t a single surface in that whole castle I didn’t think about fucking you over...”

Remus is a _wreck_. He had his own fantasies, never as innocent as his friends seemed to think him. He would’ve done anything for Sirius then, and he knows Sirius would do anything for him now. He _needs_ Sirius. His brain’s so fogged over with _lust_ that he’s not sure he could form a coherent sentence, but Sirius ends his torture, roughly squeezing his cock and asking too casually, “Now... which of those boyhood fantasies are you going to let come true today?”

“Any,” Remus growls, “Just _fuck me already._ ”

The hand on his crotch recedes, coming, instead, to cup his chin. Sirius turns Remus’ face towards him and smiles, face awash, for that moment, more in sincerity than hunger. He says, “I love you, Remy,” and gives Remus a chaste kiss on the lips. He pulls back before Remus can eagerly shove his tongue out for more. Then Sirius climbs off the bench and tugs Remus with him by the arm, chuckling, “Now, lets get you into my bed before we make another mess of the hardwood.”


End file.
